Waves Crashing Against the Shore
by cloneserpents
Summary: A spell meant to help find the horcruxes and stop Voldemort has terrible repercussions. Can Ron save his best friends from themselves? Dark horror. Major Character Deaths.
1. Prologue

**Waves Crashing Against the Shore**

by cloneserpents

**Standard Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all characters are property of J K Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Arthur A. Levine Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic publishing (et al.) and are used without permission. This work was written purely for noncommercial entertainment; no money is being made

**WARNING!**

This is a dark horror fan-fiction containing graphic violence, gore and major character deaths.

* * *

**Prologue**

In Ottery St. Catchpole in the parlor of the Lovegood home Ron sat impatiently on a wobbly three-legged stool. That morning he awoke to find the Lovegood family owl pecking at his window. The message it carried from his strange neighbor, Luna, demanded he come to her house immediately for it was a matter of life and death. He had every intention of ignoring the note. Luna was an odd bird and her idea of a life and death situation usually pertained to non‑existent creatures Luna insisted were real. After reading the first part of the post (which he did strictly to stop the owl from hooting insistently), Ron very nearly crumpled up the parchment and went back to bed. Before he could follow through, his eyes caught the postscript under Luna's signature. There, written in loopy joined letters, was the phrase, _"It deals with the journey you, Harry and Hermione are about to take."_

Ron rapidly dressed and rushed over the hill to Luna's house. When she answered the door she seemed surprised to see him—then again, with her protuberant eyes, she always seemed surprised.

"Hello, Ronald," she chirped. "How are you this lovely morning?"

She ushered him in and told him she would be right with him: she had to finish proofreading her father's article on a conspiracy within the Ministry to lace the water supply with some chemical called floor-ride.

"But you said it was important," he pressed. "You said it was a matter of life and death."

He had not told a soul about the journey he, Hermione and Harry were about to take to find You-Know-Who's horcruxes. He didn't know how Luna learned of it and it worried him that others might know as well.

"It is very important, Ronald. But so is this," she pointed her quill at the parchment before her. "My father's publication has a standard to live up to. His readers would become quite cross if there were too many errors. It'll just take a moment, then we can talk about your journey."

So, he sat on the uneven stool, watching as Luna scratched out one line or another and scribbled down corrections in the margin for five minutes. Once she set her quill down, Ron leapt up and asked, "What do you know about this, ah, this journey?"

"Very little." She blinked slowly. "I had a dream last night."

"A dream?" He let out a huff that was half-way between a scoff and a sigh.

"Yes, a dream. Before she died, my mother told me my dreams were very important and I should always listen to them. And since my mother was in this particular dream, I paid extra attention.

"My mother came to me and told me three of my friends were about to undertake a dangerous journey. She told me something terrible might happen to them. Some of them, she told me, might even die."

Fidgeting nervously, Ron asked, "What makes you think this dream was about Harry, Hermione and me?"

"I only have five friends, Ronald, and three of them are always getting in some perilous adventure or another. It wasn't really hard to deduce to whom my mother warned me about."

"Okay, thanks. We'll be careful." He scratched the back of his head. He was relieved Luna didn't know anything that could possibly get her or anyone else in trouble. But it bothered him that he rushed out of his comfortable bed and ran over to Luna's for nothing: he knew the thing he and his best friends were about to do was dangerous.

"She also told me how I could help." Luna's hand floated up and pointed to a rickety old bookcase stuffed with books of every shape and color and in various stages of decay. "There was a book, a very old book, hidden behind Ridgemount Fairweather's _Field Guide to Wondrous Plants and How to Weave them into Practical Clothing_. My mother told me she put it there before she died because she knew I would need it one day. There is a spell in the book that could help the three of you."

"Really," Ron craned his neck as if he was trying to see the hidden book, "what does it do?"

"It replaces a person's memories and experiences with those of their future selves."

"Really?" he repeated. "How far into the future?"

"About three or four years."

"Hmm," he muttered. There was a benefit to the spell—if he, Hermione and Harry had their future memories, they would already know where You-Know-Who hid all of his horcruxes and any traps that waited for them. The only downside that he saw was he and his friends would essentially skip over the next three or four years. It wasn't that much, he thought, only a handful of years. Besides, with their future memories, they could find all the horcruxes in no time.

"I've already performed the spell," she informed him.

His eyes bulged. "You did what?"

"It was rather difficult, but I felt a surge of magic flow through me so I know it worked." Luna cocked her head and looked at Ron with her silvery grey eyes. "Or did it?"

Ron frowned. "I don't feel any different."

"You don't have any memories about the future?"

"No, just my regular memories."

"I suppose the spell was too difficult for me after all." She shrugged her slim shoulders. "Oh, well."

"Maybe I can get Hermione to help you."

"That's a wonderful suggestion, Ronald. Unfortunately, the spell required that I burn the book. It was a symbolic exchange of information, destroying the book to gain new knowledge, as you know."

He sighed. "Let me guess, that was a one of a kind book, right?"

She nodded her head sadly.

"Well, thanks for trying, Luna."

The blonde stood on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Do be careful, Ronald. The dream gave me a dreadful feeling about what you three are about to do."

He smiled at her. "Don't worry. We'll be careful. Besides, Harry's got a knack for getting us out of trouble."

**-00-**

Nearly at that precise moment in Little Whinging, Harry Potter stared at the small mirror hanging on the door of his wardrobe. His brow knitted in an angry scowl and his lips pressed in a frown. A fire burned in his eyes as he examined his own features. Reaching up, he ran his fingers over his smooth cheeks and his grimace deepened.

**-00-**

Meanwhile at her parents' house just outside of London, Hermione Granger was sobbing. Blinking away her tears, she looked down at her trembling hands as if they belonged to someone else. Her pet, Crookshanks, huddled in the far corner, hissed at her with his fur standing on end. She brought her knees up to her chest and began rocking back and forth. Jabbing her fingers into her kinky hair, she whimpered, "Where's Harry? Where's my Smiling Man?"

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter One

**Waves Crashing Against the Shore**

by cloneserpents

**Standard Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all characters are property of J K Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Arthur A. Levine Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic publishing (et al.) and used without permission. This work was written purely for noncommercial entertainment; no money is being made

**WARNING!**

This is a dark horror fan-fiction containing graphic violence, gore and major character deaths.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Of course he remembered them. How could he not. They made his life miserable every chance they got. Even if they had not been terrible people, they shouldn't have yelled at him. If the old fat one did not throw open the door and shout at him, Harry would have left the house and its occupants alone. However, the fat man (Harry knew his name but it wasn't important) made the mistake of yelling at Harry while he examined his bizarre features. He called Harry a freak and a burden. The memories of the pain and neglect he suffered under the fat man, his skinny wife and their obese son rushed to the forefront of his mind. Thinking on the trials he faced in the cupboard under the stairs and then in the smallest bedroom, he should have thanked them. After all, the mean and terrible things they did to him prepared him in a manner for what Voldemort and his minions did years later. Although that would be like comparing apples to oranges—name calling, skipped meals and soapy frying pans thrown at him was nothing in regards to what the Death Eaters did to him—the fat man and his family's actions hardened Harry and gave him the ability to deal with hardships. It was only proper to thank them and he would do just that.

As he roughly dragged the fat man down the stairs by his ear, Harry wondered how he came to be at this house. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep under the stars with Hermione pressing against his side. A cold hollow pit formed in his chest just as it did when the Ministry took her away from him. He had to find his Hermione. It didn't matter why he was at the fat man's house or why Harry himself looked so different. He had to find his Hermione.

The skinny woman pulled and screamed at Harry. Her cries were the squawking of some chicken frightened by a fox. The fat boy thundered down the steps, shouting at Harry, "Leave my Dad alone!"

Harry reached the bottom of the stairs and tugged the fat man toward the cupboard, the place that used to be Harry's room for so long. Pulling the door open, Harry shoved the fat man in, throwing him on top of boxes of Christmas ornaments and winter clothes. The fat man howled clutching his ear and his wife jumped into the cupboard to vainly try pulling his enormous bulk out of the small space. Turning, Harry saw the fat boy standing in front of him with his hands balled into fists. Before the fat boy could attack, Harry's foot shot out, striking the obese boy between the legs. As the boy doubled over, Harry took him by the shoulders and threw him into the cupboard on top of his parents. While the fat boy's parents pled with him to get off so they could get out of the cupboard, Harry strolled into the kitchen. Pulling a large butcher knife out of the wooden block, Harry wondered why the fat man and his family had not changed since the last time he saw them. The hollow pit in his chest expanded. The whole situation was confusing and troubling. He needed his Hermione.

Walking back to the cupboard with the knife in his hand, Harry proceeded to thank his relatives for all they did for him. First, he showed his appreciation to the fat boy. Then Harry's show of gratitude ended the skinny woman's shriek. The fat man was able to shout, "Burn in hell, you sick bastard!" before Harry gave him his thanks.

Harry could've used his wand, but there was something gratifying in feeling a knife slicing through necks and plunging into bellies. It was a tactile connection that made it all the more intimate. They were his family after all.

**-01-**

The pack was heavy. Ron regretted not listening to the lectures on how to shrink things. If he had listened to Professor Flitwick, as Hermione often lectured, he would have been able to turn the tent and all the provisions into something more manageable and, more importantly, lighter. Once they got to Hermione's, the first thing he'd do was ask her to shrink the tent. Needless to say, he would have to listen to another lecture from Hermione but not having to carry the heavy load would be worth it.

He Apparated to the Dursleys' back garden and let the pack slip from his back. "Ahh, that's better."

Rubbing his sore shoulders, Ron waited for Harry to join him. When Harry told him to come by his relative's house before they went to Hermione's together, he told Ron to show up around nine in the morning. Harry promised he would keep an eye out for his arrival. The minutes ticked by with the red-haired wizard standing in the middle of the garden. Tapping his foot, he checked his watch and muttered, "C'mon, mate, let's go."

It wasn't as if Ron could walk up to the door and knock. Harry's Muggle relatives were barmy and they would have a conniption if he showed up at their back door asking for Harry. But that was exactly what he was tempted to do when his watch read a quarter past nine. It figured; the first time Ron was ever on time without Hermione haranguing him and here Harry was the one that was going to make them late. There was no way Hermione wouldn't lay the blame on Ron's shoulders. Even if Harry confessed, Hermione would say that it was due to years of Ron's influence.

Then, a minute or so later, Ron saw Harry through the kitchen window. Ron waved, trying to get his friend to look in the garden, but Harry's attention was on washing something in the kitchen sink. "Oi, Harry!"

Turning away from the sink, Harry looked out the window. Over the past few years, he became accustomed to hearing Ron's voice, but to see him standing in the garden was another confusing thing to add to this strange day. He cocked his head and stared at the vision curiously, as the warm water ran over his hands and the knife.

It was impossible for Ron not to notice the angry expression on Harry's face. "What'd those Muggles do now?"

Ron walked to the back door and opened it. "Hey, mate, how's it going?"

In response, Harry looked the red head up and down with his face twisted in anger. Under the burning hate, Ron also saw some confusion in Harry's eyes. "You okay?"

Harry gave a curt nod. Of all the things that happened in his life, seeing his friend, even if it was just a figment of his fractured mind, was a good thing.

Ron looked over the kitchen. It was a cold place, hospital clean and unwelcoming. It was too clean; it looked as if no one used the room, not like the kitchen at the Burrow. He couldn't imagine a family sitting down at the table to enjoy a home cooked meal.

"Where're the Muggles?"

Flicking the wet butcher knife to point toward the front room, Harry sent an arch of reddish water droplets all over the pristine kitchen floor.

Ron's nose crinkled. "Cor! What's that smell? Did something die in here?"

Instead of answering, Harry just looked at his friend.

"Okay, do you wanna say goodbye to them or anything?"

Harry continued to stare at Ron with that strange mixture of anger and confusion.

"Guess not," Ron said. "Well then, you ready to go?"

Again, Harry did not answer. He simply looked at Ron.

"You are talkative today, aren't you?" Ron cringed under that strange, icy glare. "Alright, that's not creepy."

Harry turned off the faucet and pushed the still wet knife back into the block. Turning, he headed for the back door. He needed to find Hermione. He didn't know where to even start but lingering in the kitchen talking with a delusion wasn't helping.

"I take it you're ready to go then?" Ron fell in step behind Harry. "Don't you wanna, I don't know, grab your sleeping bag or the provisions you were supposed to pick up? Or put on some trainers. Or a pull over."

The grass of the garden tickled his bare feet. Harry looked to the right, and then left as if hoping there would be some clue as to Hermione's whereabouts. The pit in his chest ate up more space as it stretched out through his belly and into his shoulders. The need to find his Hermione was quickly growing frantic. Someone separated them. He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but when he found who did this, he would take his time ripping them apart. Pieces of their flesh, whoever they were, would cling under his fingernails and get caught between his teeth.

"So, you ready to head to Hermione's?"

Harry's head whipped around and Ron took a step back as Harry's eyes burned into him.

"Take it easy, mate."

Harry did not move but Ron took another step backwards.

"What's the problem, Harry?"

The apparition knew where Hermione was. Harry tried to will the vision of Ron to tell him where they took Hermione, but the redhead only put more distance between them. Ron's back bumped into the garden wall. "Merlin, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Why didn't the figment answer? It perplexed Harry. Every time Ron would talk to him in his head, his dead friend would respond, even when Harry wanted him to shut up. It was making him angry. His heart began to speed up and his breath quickened. This agitation only seemed to accelerate the growth of the cold pit. It reached down into his loins and crept up his neck.

Ron was worried. He had seen Harry mad before but this was unlike anything he experienced. He wondered if the Muggles did something to make him this angry. Then a chilling thought occurred to him—what if it was You-Know-Who? Was the evil bastard messing with Harry again? What was he doing to him? "Okay, listen, I know something's wrong, Harry, but we can fix it, alright?" He didn't have a clue as to how to help Harry. If You-Know-Who was manipulating Harry, it was way beyond Ron's area of knowledge. "Let's go get Hermione, huh?"

Harry threw out his hands.

"She's at her folks' place," Ron rushed to answer the unasked question. "You know that. It was part of the bloody plan."

In the blink of an eye, Harry Apparated away.

"Shit!" Ron rushed to the discarded pack and Apparated.

**-01-**

The moment he landed inside Hermione's room and saw her curled up on the bed, the pit consuming him vanished. She wailed and jumped into his open arms.

"Harry! Harry! Harry!" Rapid-fire kisses peppered his shoulder, neck and ear. "You said you'd never leave me again." She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her feet together behind his back. Continuing her frenzied kisses, she mewled, "I was scared and lost and cold and…"

When her lips touched the soft, smooth skin of his cheek, she pulled back. Her hands cupped his face and confusion danced in her eyes. "What happened to your beautiful smile?"

He turned his head away in shame. Pulling his face back to hers, she placed a small peck on the tip of his nose. "It doesn't matter what you look like, you're still my beautiful Harry."

With her fingers tapping Harry's shoulders, Hermione looked around the room. "This is rather perplexing, isn't it? This is my room." Still perched on his hips, she twisted her body this way and that, pointing around the room. "That's my bed. That's my wardrobe. Those are my bookcases. And there's Crookshanks."

The cat's ears flattened against his head and he gave out a yowl.

"Mean ol' cat yelling at his mummy. Mummy should put him in a sack and toss him in the river."

Crookshanks, partially hidden between two of the room's many bookcases, hissed.

"Oh, stop it, you poop. I was just teasing. I wouldn't throw you in a river." Hermione brightened like a star about to explode. "Oh, we should do that with our next plaything, Harry! We'll put them in a sack and throw them in a river!" She laughed.

Harry looked at her.

"Drat, you're right. We wouldn't hear them scream if they drown. Oh, well, that's too bad."

A commotion from the bottom floor interrupted their one-sided conversation. A muffled voice sounded through the floor. "Hello Doctor and Doctor Granger. Sorry for barging in like this. Is Hermione in her room? Right then, thanks."

As a pair of feet rushed up the stairs, Hermione asked, "What's this then?"

Ron threw open the door and slammed it behind him. "Merlin, Harry, did you Apparate right into Hermione's room? That's rude!" His eyebrows rose up and he eyed the joined pair up and down. "What are you two doing?"

Harry and Hermione shared a look. "No, Harry, I can see him, too."

"Of course you can see me." Ron shook his head in disbelief. "I'm standing right in front of you."

Unhitching herself from Harry, Hermione cautiously walked toward Ron. First, she leaned in close and sniffed him. She then pushed her forefinger into his shoulder. Finally, she pressed her ear to his chest and listened to his heartbeat for a moment. She mimicked his pulse with a series of "thumps." She stood and announced, "Yep. He's real and alive."

"What are you on about?" Ron demanded.

Hermione backed up and her hand reached out to Harry, blindly seeking his. Harry intertwined his fingers in hers as she stood by him. "You'll have to forgive us, Ron. The last time we saw you, you were dead."

"You… the both of you… are acting insane!"

Hermione threw up her freehand in triumph. "Right in one! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Without any warning, tears sprang up in Hermione's eyes. Her lip quivered and she whimpered, "Please, help. Oh, God. Please help us."

Before Ron would even register what happened Hermione's face twisted and she snapped, "Worthless, pathetic little girl!"

Her head whipped to Harry where she noticed his hair. Fingering his raven locks, she commented, "I prefer it white."

Ron forged ahead. "The last time you saw me was at King's Cross where we planned this little…" he lowered his voice, fearing someone might overhear, "… _little_ _trip_."

Cocking her head, Hermione looked at Ron curiously. "Huh?" Her eyes moved to the pack dangling off his back. "This reminds me of something… Oh, that's it!" She clicked her fingers. "Doesn't this remind you of the day we set off to find Voldemort's horcruxes, Harry?"

Ron threw his finger to his lips and shushed her, "Somebody might be listening, Hermione!"

"Yeah, it looks exactly like that day. Except Crookshanks wasn't being a poop."

"Whatever the game is you two are playing, stop," Ron ordered. "It's not funny and you're scaring me."

"Isn't it like that day, Harry?" she asked smiling. He nodded his head and she added, "Everything is just the way I remember it."

Ron froze. It hit him like a ton of bricks. "Wait, you remember this? Like it's from your past?"

"Well you can't remember something from your future now can you," Hermione giggled.

"Blimey," he muttered to himself, "It worked." He did not know why he could not recall anything from the future, but it seemed like Luna's spell worked. "Can you tell me what the year is right now?"

"No."

"You can't." It seemed odd that someone like Hermione, who thought punctuality was a religious activity, would not know the year. Yet, that was probably the least odd thing she did so far that day. "Can you tell me where the horcruxes are?"

She shook her head and pouted childishly.

"Why not?"

"We never found them."

"Never?"

"Not a one… well besides Riddle's Diary but that was ages before what we even knew what a horcrux was."

Ron was devastated. Luna's spell worked but it was all for naught—according to Hermione, their quest to find the horcruxes failed completely. "Well could you tell me what did happen?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"You were there, silly."

Harry tapped Hermione on the shoulder and looked into her eyes. She lightly slapped her forehead. "Oh, yeah, you can't remember because you're dead. I guess I'm the silly one."

The blood in Ron's veins turned to ice. "I'm what?"

"You're dead." She said it as if she told him his hair just happened to be red. "Well, you were dead but now you're alive." A smile grew on her face and she placed her hands on her hips. "Ron, did you go and make yourself a horcrux, you naughty boy? Is that why you're alive again?"

"What happened?" Ron's mind screamed in protest—he did not want to know the answer to that question but it just seemed to tumble from his lips.

"Well, we were captured, then we were tortured and raped and tortured and raped and tortured and raped, etcetera, etcetera. You died somewhere in there. It wasn't pretty."

The room shifted in Ron's vision and the ceiling seemed to jump up. Hermione giggled. "First he forgot he died and now he forgot how to stand. Silly boy."

Ron was surprised to find he was sitting on the floor. He had not noticed his legs giving way.

"This is all so peculiar," commented Hermione. She turned to Harry and, looking at his mouth, asked, "Open up, please."

After he complied, she reached in past his teeth and pulled his tongue out. "Hmm," she uttered, releasing his tongue. Harry's mouth shut and his lips sealed into a frown.

"Curiouser and curiouser." Hermione tapped her chin and her eyes narrowed. "Harry's lost his beautiful smile and he's gotten his tongue back."

"What do you mean he's got his tongue back?" Ron asked from the floor. "What the bloody hell happened to his tongue?"

"Ron's alive again," she continued thinking aloud. "This reminds me of something… it's connected to something shiny and small that went spin-y, spin-y, spin-y." Hermione twirled in place three times. "Everything old is new, everything new is repeating." She wrapped her knuckles on either side of her head and sang in a warbling voice, "Time keeps on slippin', slippin' into the future."

Her eyes darted around wildly and she began to hum low and loud as she tugged at strands of her hair. She calmed slightly when Harry placed a hand on her shoulder but the strange humming persisted. Ron gulped. Something inside warned him that his friends were beasts ready to pounce at any moment. Hoping to ease the situation, he decided to tell them what he knew. "Listen, everything's okay. I can explain… Luna performed a spell today."

"Luna?" Hermione snickered. "Did the spell have to do with snorkacks? Lovely, lovely Luna Lovegood. She's a bit out there."

Ron chose to bite his tongue and not say, _"Look who's talking."_

"I don't know what the spell was called or how it even worked, but it was supposed to replace us, our minds, with our future selves. You two are from the future."

Harry's head tilted ever so slightly and Hermione's eyes grew wide. Ron looked between the pair. There was something in their eyes—a dark thing that sent a chill through his spine.

"So, this doesn't just look like the day we left to find Voldemort's horcruxes, this _is_ the day we left!" Biting her lip, Hermione started to clap fast. She turned and laughed uproariously. She threw her arms around Harry and cheered, "This is wonderful! Fantastic! If we're in the past, we can play with all the playthings we wore out."

"Playthings? What that supposed to mean?"

"Playthings—things you play with Ron, it's not complicated: the definition is in the word. Play… things." Suddenly, Hermione stood rod straight and took in a gulp of air. With her voice full of rapturous wonder, she whispered, "We can play with Neville again!"

Harry tensed visibly and he flexed his fingers.

"We can play with Neville again! We can play with Neville again!" Hermione chanted. "We can play with Neville again!"

"You two want to play with Neville?" Ron asked, not understanding why she was overjoyed by such a thought.

Smiling like a crocodile, she replied with a list of names. "Marcus Junius Brutus, Judas Iscariot, Guy Fawkes, Neville Longbottom."

"Look, I'm really confused." Ron wiped his face. "Okay… just wait… let's just wait."

"We've learned a bunch of new spells since the last time we played with Neville," Hermione said with a titter. "This time, it'll last for hours and hours and hours."

The chill in Ron's spine seeped into his chest. The shocking news that he was supposed to die in the near future and his friends suffered untold horrors ate at him. Yet for some reason, Hermione's need for playtime frightened him even more. He needed help. "How about we all head to Luna's and have some tea. You'd like tea, right?"

Hermione's shoulders sagged. "Tea is boring. I want to play."

"But… but when was the last time you saw Luna, huh?"

Pursing her lips, Hermione said, "A long, long time ago. A different lifetime."

She looked to Harry and smiled sweetly, and said, "You're right, Harry. It would be nice to see another friendly face, wouldn't it?"

Harry held out his hand and she took it. The pair Apparated out of the room with a loud crack. Jumping to his feet, Ron squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the Lovegood home. Before Apparating himself, he muttered, "Bloody rude Apparating inside somebody's house."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. Chapter Two

**Waves Crashing Against the Shore**

by cloneserpents

**Standard Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all characters are property of J K Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Arthur A. Levine Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic publishing (et al.) and are used without permission. This work was written purely for noncommercial entertainment; no money is being made.

**WARNING!**

This is a dark horror fan-fiction containing graphic violence, gore and major character deaths for mature readers.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

When he was just a small child, before he understood what a ghoul actually was, Ron was terrified of the loud noises coming from the attic above his room. The little boy would throw his blanket over his head to hide every night as the thing bashed and banged around in the space over his bed. He did not know the creature was relatively harmless and the noises frightened him. His young mind whipped up one terrifying scenario after another: the thing banging around planned on taking Ron's Mum and Dad away and he'd never see them again; or it would take him away and hurt him and let him starve. Often, he would picture the thing breaking through the ceiling. The thing, which was nothing more than a shadow in a twisted human form in his mind, would snatch him up and carry the screaming boy through the window and into the dark forest behind the Burrow where it would do unspeakable things to him. The fear fed by his imagination used to fill him with such dread. His hands would shake and tears filled his eyes. It made him so cold he would shiver as he hid under the blankets.

Now, as he stood in the Lovegood home, Ron felt that same dread. He had to shove his hands deep into his pockets to stop them from shaking. He tried telling himself that he was overreacting. Harry and Hermione were still the friends he knew and they were just a little off. Despite his attempts, Ron failed to convince himself and the dread nestled in his heart.

Hermione was walking, skipping and jumping around the parlor and kitchen like a hyperactive child. When the brunette decided to pretend to walk a tightrope behind the couch, putting one foot directly in front of the other while holding her arms straight out for balance, Luna asked her what she was doing. Hermione replied, "I'm walking around. I'm not used to having my legs not wobbling and shaking. A benefit of not having them repeatedly broken and shattered and whatnot, I guess."

When he Apparated outside the Lovegood home, Ron heard Luna give a shout of fright and he rushed into the house to find Hermione hugging the blonde witch. Harry with his ever-present scowl stood behind Hermione and Luna like a statue.

"_Shh, shh,_" Hermione hushed, stroking Luna's hair, "it's okay. We're so happy to see you. Isn't that right, Harry? We love lovey Luna Lovegood." Sniffing Luna's blonde locks, Hermione asked, "Have you always smelled of lavender?"

Hermione closed her eyes and held Luna tight. The blonde tilted her head and gave Ron a quizzical look. Then Hermione held the younger witch at arm's length and asked, "How are you, Luna? It's been ages since we've spoken."

Suddenly pulling her attention away from Luna, Hermione's head shot this way and that, as if she was watching an insect only she could see flying around the room. Turning around, Hermione walked away from Luna and began bounding and skipping around the parlor. Harry kept his attention fixed on her, watching her, guarding her. When she started to walk the invisible tightrope, Luna shuffled to Ron's side.

"What's wrong with them?" she asked.

Ron unconsciously wiped a thin layer of sweat from his brow before answering, "It worked, your spell worked."

Luna cocked her head to the side. "But you told me you don't remember anything from the future?"

Cheering excitedly, Hermione proclaimed, "Look, Harry, books!" She scampered over to the over-stuffed bookcase and began running her finger along the spines of the books. "Words upon words. Word after word. So many words. Dull, boring, useless words."

Taking her eyes away from Hermione, Luna looked to Ron.

"The reason why I don't remember is that I'm dead. Or will die. Or should've died." His brow furrowed and his eyes squinted. "Damn, this is confusing." He shook his head. "Sometime in the future, we get… or got… captured by You-Know-Who."

Luna gasped. Covering her mouth with a delicate hand, she looked between Harry and Hermione. The raven-haired wizard stood in the exact place where he had Apparated. His whole body was tense — the lean muscles of his bare chest constricted as if he was ready to strike at a moment's notice. His face, which Luna usually found handsome, was twisted and mangled into a mask of rage and hate. For an instant, when she looked into his emerald eyes, Luna thought he was a falcon eyeing its prey as he watched Hermione. However, there was something in his eyes beneath the anger: a sparkle of compassion, a hint of love. Hermione, who was in her bedclothes like Harry, was busy pulling one book after another from the shelf before tossing them to the ground muttering, "Worthless. Pointless. Waste of time." Shortly after she started emptying the bookcase, Hermione looked up at a crack in the ceiling. She continued throwing the books to the floor as she eyed the crack. Without even looking at the books much less reading their titles Hermione kept mumbling, "Joke. Pitiful. Worthless. Absurd."

"What happened?" Luna asked.

"We got… they got tortured," Ron said with a sad sigh.

Hermione tipped one book from the shelf and it fell on top of her bare foot. She yelped. Harry was at her side in an instant, his arms around her. "It's okay, Harry. I'm fine. There's no reason to be mad at the book other than being filled with worthless, boring words that is."

Harry let her go and Hermione returned to pulling the books from the shelves and letting them drop to the floor.

Whispering, Luna asked Ron, "Why hasn't Harry said anything?"

"My Smiling Man is a man of action," Hermione answered, "not words."

Gazing at Harry, Luna blinked. "He's not smiling."

Hermione gave a frown that mirrored Harry's. Then her face went slack as she said, "I know and I'm perfectly fine with that."

Before she returned once again to emptying the bookcase of its books, Hermione smoothed her hands on Harry's cheeks. "You are still my Smiling Man."

"This is horrible," whispered Luna.

"Yeah," Ron breathed, "we — they were tortured a lot."

Luna's shoulders sagged. She turned to Ron with her lip quivering and tears glistening in her eyes. "I did this."

"What? No, you didn't." When Luna's trembling lips turned into a frown, he took her by the shoulders. "Luna, you did not do this. You-Know-Who did it. Or he will do it. Damn it, was going to do." He gulped and looked at his best friends.

"Don't you see, Ronald? I did this, I was the one that brought them back." A single tear cascaded down her cheek. Sighing, the blonde continued her self-reprimand. "I tried to help, but I failed and ruined it… ruined them."

Ron put his arms around his friend in an awkward embrace.

Hermione's eyes grew wide as she glared at Luna. Snarling, she screeched, "No!"

A book flew across the room and smashed into the wall denting the plaster. Hermione shrieked, "No crying! No! It never works! Only weak things cry!"

Harry took a step toward Ron and Luna as Hermione screamed, "That weak little girl cried and it did not stop them! They laughed at her! Crying is pathetic and feeble!"

Placing himself in front of Luna like a shield, Ron blurted, "It's okay. It's okay. I'll get her to stop crying. Don't worry."

Without taking his eyes off his deranged friends, Ron ushered Luna into a small sitting room off the parlor and closed the door. He pulled Luna into a tight hug. She trembled in his arms.

"What was the journey the three of you were going to take?" Luna barely spoke. Her words told Ron that she too felt something menacing and dangerous lurking inside of Harry and Hermione, like a hungry dragon slumbering in the shadows of a cave.

"We… we were going to find a way to stop You-Know-Who." There was no point keeping the mission a secret any longer. There was no way in hell he would go searching for the horcruxes now knowing the terrible outcome. When she sniffled, Ron hushed her. "_Shh,_ it'll be alright."

"How, Ronald?" she asked between sobs. "How will it be alright?"

He rubbed her back. "We can fix this. We can send these… these versions of Harry and Hermione away and bring back our friends. There has to be a spell out there that'll reverse it, right?"

"I don't know, Ronald. I've never heard of any spell like the one I cast this morning much less a counter-spell."

The sound of another book slamming against a wall was quickly followed by Hermione screaming at the top of her lungs, "Stupid, worthless words!"

Ron gulped and looked into Luna's large eyes. "We have to try."

She whispered, "I suppose anything's possible but we will have to research."

"I know we can do it." He hoped he was not just wishing for a good outcome. "And once we get them back, we can find another way to deal with You-Know-Who."

"We'll have to go to Hogwarts," she said. "If there's any spell or ritual that can help them, it will be in the library."

Ron looked at the wall and his friends somewhere behind it and sighed. "Maybe we should calm those two down before we head to the castle." Luna nodded and he continued, "I don't like the idea of Stunning them, but…"

"I have a Calming Draught," the blonde offered. "Sometimes Father gets very agitated, especially around publishing time. I slip a dose into his tea so that he can get some sleep."

"Good, good. We'll just give them some spiked tea and then they can take a little kip." Dwelling on that thought, he added, "And maybe we can keep giving them it until we find a way to fix all of this."

"That would probably be for the best."

Luna's trembling lessened but Ron found he did not want to let her go.

**-02-**

Just outside the kitchen, Hermione smiled at Harry — her tantrum long forgotten. "It was lovely seeing Luna again, but now I'm bored." She lightly touched his chin. "We could go find someone, perhaps, someone who could give us their screams."

Harry scooped her up and cradled her in his arms.

"But who should it be, Harry? Should we find a new plaything or pick one of our old ones?"

He stared at her silently.

"Oh, you're going to surprise me then?" She threw her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, "This will be grand, simply grand."

**-02-**

When Ron heard the crack of Apparation, his heart dropped like a rock into the pit of his stomach. "Oh, no."

Already knowing his friends had gone, Ron rushed out of the room with Luna close behind. Upon seeing the empty parlor and confirming his fears, Ron cursed.

"Where'd they go?" asked Luna.

"Dunno." He gulped. His belly twisted into a tight knot. Noticing the tears returning to Luna's eyes, he took hold of her hands. "Don't worry, okay. I think I know where they might be heading. I'll find them. You go to Hogwarts and start looking for something to help and I'll go find them."

"Ronald," she breathed. Luna looked lost and frightened.

"Listen, it'll be okay. Everything will be all right. We can do this. Okay?"

"Okay," she said and then swallowed. "Where are you going to go?"

"They said something about playing with Neville," Ron said as he headed to the door.

**-02-**

The moment they arrived at their destination, Hermione's head spun around, pivoting in every direction trying to determine where Harry took her. They stood in front of a secluded white cottage with a thatched roof at the end of a very long walkway. The homes of the closest neighbors were nothing more than tiny dollhouses far away. Pots of lilacs and begonias lined the edge of the cottage. "This looks familiar. Is it Bulstrode's. No, that place had daffodils growing in pots by the door. Wait, I remember something about lilacs… Where are we, Harry? Tell me."

He gently set her down and pointed to the front window. She glided up to the cottage. Hermione bit the tip of her tongue and laughed manically when she saw through the window a wall covered with fluffy cats painted on decorated plates. In a singsong whisper, Hermione began to chant, "I must not tell lies. I must not tell lies. I must not tell lies."

Harry took Hermione by the hand and led her to the front door.

"I must not tell lies. I must not tell lies."

With a wave of his wand, the front door clicked and silently swung open. The eyes of the cats on the plates followed the pair as they slinked down the hall.

"I must not tell lies. I must not tell lies."

Harry gave Hermione a knowing glance and the witch swallowed her lips. It would ruin the surprise if their plaything heard them coming.

As they slinked through the house, a sound of a quill scratching against parchment reached Hermione's ears. She almost gave a cheer at the thought of the screams about to come. She had to bite her tongue once again when they entered the study to stop the happy shout that threatened to spring from her mouth.

Their plaything had not yet realized they were there. The fat, toad-like woman had her back toward them, focused on whatever she was writing. Harry looked to Hermione giving her permission to announce their presence. Letting out a gleeful titter, Hermione cried out, "Good morning, High Inquisitor!"

Dolores Umbridge spun around so fast that she nearly knocked her chair over. In an instant, the fat woman got over her surprise and her face darkened in rage. "What in the devil's name are you two doing in my home?"

"Is it still High Inquisitor? Wait, wasn't that title stripped?" Hermione seemed to ask the air. "I suppose it doesn't really matter."

Umbridge stood and stomped over on her thick legs toward the two invaders. "Get out at once or I will call the authori—"

Harry's fist slammed into Umbridge's gut, ending her threat and sending her crashing to the floor. The woman whimpered in pain. Harry flicked his wand and Umbridge's wand flew into Harry's open hand. Then he snapped the witch's wand in two before tossing the pieces to the far corner of the room.

Hermione squatted next to Umbridge's head and said, "Now, the last time we were here, I wasn't myself." She tapped the side of her own head adding, "I wasn't all there, if you catch my drift. That was back when I couldn't even think. I was empty and hollow. So I don't remember how Harry made you scream, but I do remember your screams."

Another flick of Harry's wand pulled Umbridge's hands and feet far apart, pinning her spread-eagle to the floor. Hermione clutched her hands to her bosom and swayed. "Your screams helped me so much, Dolores, so very much. They healed me and filled me and helped me to start thinking again."

Harry waved his wand and invisible hands tore Umbridge's clothes from her body leaving her naked and exposed. She grunted and fruitlessly tugged at the unseen ropes holding her in place. Harry threw one leg over Umbridge to straddle her bare body.

Leaning close to Umbridge's ear, Hermione whispered to her plaything, "Harry's never admitted it aloud — or said anything aloud for that matter — but I'm certain he enjoyed your screams as much as I did. Now that we've been awarded this marvelous opportunity to revisit our playthings, we will both revel in your screams."

Hermione stood and Harry pushed the tip of his wand into Umbridge's fleshy gut.

"I'll see you two rot in Azkaban for this!" the naked witch screamed.

"You'll see us in Azkaban? You know what, Harry? I do believe that's a lie." Hermione giggled. "And you know what we do to liars."

Harry dragged his wand down Umbridge's round belly. She screamed as her skin tore open and blood flowed from the wound. Hermione looked into the gash and saw fat and sinew. She said, "I…"

Harry moved his wand a little to the right and dragged it through her skin to write joined letters. Hermione shouted over Umbridge's cries of pain, "Must…"

Harry continued writing and cutting the plaything's belly. Each letter her wrote tore an inch or so deep into Umbridge's back. The blood flowed like a creek and her screams ripped at her throat. Hermione gritted her teeth in a broad smile before she completed the phrase Harry wrote, "… not… tell… lies!"

After inspecting the words ripped into their plaything's back, Hermione placed a peck on the tip of Harry's nose. "It's beautiful, Harry."

"Please… please stop," Umbridge whimpered.

Hermione pursed her lips and cocked an eyebrow. "Why would we do that? We just started, you silly goose."

"I know… I know I've mistreated you, I can see that," Umbridge pleaded. "But you're both good people."

Hermione threw back her head and laughed. "There were a few lies in there, weren't there, High Inquisitor? Harry, I don't think she's learned her lesson yet. You'll have to drive the point home."

He nodded in agreement and pushed his wand into Umbridge's skin. While the fat witch screamed and begged and pleaded, Hermione chanted like a lunatic, "I must not tell lies! I must not tell lies!"

**TO BE CONTINUED**


End file.
